


Strength and Courage, London 1973

by veronicaluv



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 00:50:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronicaluv/pseuds/veronicaluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're still just kids but their parents don't want them so fuck it, they're each other's family now and it's Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strength and Courage, London 1973

**Author's Note:**

> For the spartacus_2010 comment prompt fest.

The first time Agron saw him, Nasir was getting the shit beat out of him in an alley. He'd just been passing by, the sound of fists pounding flesh in darkened corners already such an everyday occurrence since arriving in London that Agron's initial reaction was to turn his head and walk away.

But he looked anyway, and something about the single-minded ferocity of the victim, so much smaller and lighter than his attackers, shook Agron out of his apathy. Before he'd even made a conscious decision, he waded into the fight, his size and ability tipping the advantage so quickly in the boy's favour that the hard lads fled as quickly as they could--which wasn't fast, given the damage Agron had done to them without half trying.

Later, holding a wet wad of napkin to a cut above Nasir's swelling eye, Agron would tease him and say that he'd only shown up in time to finish them off, that Nasir had done all the work, which wasn't far wrong. Nasir had smiled at him, just a little, just enough to start the cut on his lip bleeding again, and Agron had been lost.

Nasir--they exchanged names and handshakes just as Nasir's legs gave out in the alley--didn't say much at first, other than refusing to go to hospital after the attack. That had left Agron with a problem--he couldn't leave Nasir alone, but getting involved was against everything he believed in, everything he'd run away from. He wanted desperately to believe that his ability to care for someone, anyone, had died when his brother was murdered, and besides, he had little to offer some scrawny runaway who got beat up just because of his accent. After all, he could barely feed himself.

But he took Nasir home to his one room, cold water flat and fed him the last of his soup and the remains of a Flake bar he'd been saving for the weekend. Nasir promised he'd leave in the morning, fell asleep propped up against Agron's chest, and they'd been together ever since.

Two weeks later, they became lovers.

Nasir came home from his first day as a dishwasher in a nearby café, laughing as he entered the flat carrying boxes of leftover food tied together with string. Agron had been pacing, hands rolled into fists, unashamed of this new and unknown hunger that had consumed him for days but unsure how to quench it. Seeing the look of confusion on Agron's face, Nasir's laughter died and he set aside the box and pulled off his jacket, tossing it on the floor.

Agron slowly walked toward him and Nasir backed up until he hit the wall, and even then, Agron didn't stop coming until they were only a breath apart. Nasir carried the scent of rain and ginger on his skin and he was looking up at Agron, eyes wide and so fucking trusting, the twist of his mouth taunting Agron and making him think of dark things to share in the night.

"Took your fuckin' time, didn't you?"

Nasir's words were teasing but his voice was no more than a sigh, exposing his bravado as nothing more than that. Hands trembling at his side, Agron leaned down and kissed him, a tentative, delicate thing that was more confession than passion. This was new to him, this wanting in his belly at war with the ache in his heart. He was afraid his big, scarred hands would destroy instead of nurture whatever this was, but when Nasir finally touched him--one hand to the nape of his neck, the other settling low on his hip--want and ache collided, producing a love so fierce that Agron thought he'd fly apart from the weight of it.

Hours later, naked, curled around each other on the mattress, they whispered of promises and dreams, of travel and adventure, of honour and devotion and a world beyond the four stained walls of their flat. It'd been early autumn then, still warm enough to spend most days outside until sundown drove them indoors and into each other's arms. Nasir tried to stay tough, as tough as Agron, and Agron loved him all the more for trying, but then Agron was tough enough for both of them, big enough that people kept their distance and soft enough to wish that he could make every day Nasir remained beside him better than the one before. 

The weather turned damp and there was little heat in the flat. Nasir struggled with the cold but he never said a word, not when he developed a rattling cough, not when his teeth chattered in the morning as he prepared for work. Agron wrapped Nasir in his arms every night, chafing his sore, reddened hands, blowing warm air across knuckles split from washing dishes in industrial soap, murmuring promises in his ear of better days ahead.

And when Christmas came and the money he'd saved from his job working on the docks was finally enough, Agron's gift to Nasir was a key to a proper flat, one with hot and cold running water and a radiator that actually worked. Nasir's gift to Agron was a series of knotted leather necklaces he'd braided together during his breaks at the café, a present so personal that Agron ducked his head and turned away as he put them on so Nasir wouldn't see his tears and misunderstand their meaning.

They were both so young, still just kids, really, but their parents didn't want them so fuck it, they were each other's family now and it was Christmas, and they though they wanted a better life, they'd already found everything they'd ever need.


End file.
